when the skeletons in your closet don't know when to shut up

The Castle by: Skeletopia

There beneath the skeletal moon, its face ablaze with pale, blue fire laid a spire of a ruin, its towers taunting the very heavens above. Its yawning gates beckoning me to enter. My fear silenced by the cries of curiosity as I crossed the forbidden threshold.

Stepping into the womb of night, my eyes were bathed in blindness, the chill air seeping into my very bones. To my right, velvet drapes adorned a monolithic window, like a pair of demonic wings. Viscid tears poured down the dark walls in thick droplets.

I came upon a long hall lined by an endless row of candles on tall wrought iron staffs. Their disembodied flame shining like pearls in a sea of blackness, their ghostly light exposing framed faces, painted with melancholy. Their deep, hollow eyes following each trembling step I take. There were men with terror-stricken faces, men with sullen expressions, their…